


I've Got You

by prescellphone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Rape, comforting illya, gallya, guilty napoleon, spy love, tmfu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prescellphone/pseuds/prescellphone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby is kidnapped and Napoleon holds himself responsible</p><p>Music: Lost Boy by Ruth B</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this way back in like October/November-ish, and I have no idea why I didn't post it. Well, I like it so here ya go! :)

* * *

 

       “This is your fault.”

       Napoleon reloaded his gun, “I’m not sure I agree.”

       Gaby flinched when bullets bit into the wall next to her, “Really?”

       “I’ll let you know that the painting we passed is worth more than all of your dresses combined. I couldn’t just run by without looking at it. Truly a masterpiece.

       Gaby rolled her eyes, “Look where your admiration got us. We’re going up the stairs instead down, and we have no way out of this building. Illya is going to kill us.”

       “Your lack of faith in me hurts, Gabriella.”

        Napoleon smirked at her before getting up and moving to the stairwell. Gaby huffed out a breath and followed him up the stairs, her short legs trying to keep up with him. At the next level, Napoleon walked calmly onto a balcony and leaned over the edge.

        “Peril, right on time.”

        Gaby gazed down and found Illya standing in the alley about 30 feet down. She realized what the plan was as Napoleon crawled onto the fire escape next to them.

        “No way, Napoleon.”

        Hanging from a bar, Napoleon looked over at her, “We have no choice. We need to be quick so the stairs are out of the question. Follow me down closely and you’ll be fine.”

        Gaby froze as Napoleon dropped from the bar, landing halfway down on another landing. He looked back up at her, his hands urgently waving.

        “I’m not strong enough for this shit-” Bullets in the hallway behind her cut Gaby off.

        “Gaby!” Napoleon and Illya yelled at the same time.

        Gaby looked over the edge again and watched Napoleon leap to the ground with a loud grunt. Illya’s eyes didn’t leave her when Napoleon stood up slowly next to him.

        “You have to move, Gaby,” Napoleon’s voice was serious when he gazed up to the balcony. Illya began taking off his jacket hurriedly and handed it and his gun to Napoleon.

        “We wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you, Napoleon!” Gaby felt her voice quiver slightly from fear. Napoleon shook his head at her stubbornness.

        Gazing up at her, Illya finally spoke, “Gaby, jump.”

        “Are you kidding me?! It’s a 30-foot fall! What if you don’t catch me?”

        Gaby crouched quickly as shots shattered the glass doors behind her. Illya held his arms out with a solemn look. He knew she would never trust him again if he didn’t catch her, but he was confident in his ability. When it came to Gaby’s safety, he never joked. Illya would never ever drop her.

        Chewing her lip, Gaby met his eyes, knowing he would climb up to her if she didn’t jump. He would come to her rescue no matter what. Gaby felt a spark of trust flutter in her chest when his mouth frowned at her. He was completely serious about this. Fixing her dress, Gaby took a deep breath as she looked behind her to find the group of men reloading their guns. She pulled herself over onto the other side the railing of the balcony and felt her head rush when she looked down. Napoleon seemed slightly worried but didn’t comment as Illya planted his feet and sharply nodded his head.

        Gaby felt a bullet slice by her leg as she released her grip on the bar behind her. Falling silently, she closed her eyes tightly, waiting for her back to break against the cement. Instead, her fall was broken by a large chest and two waiting arms. Illya grunted heavily but he held her securely as she opened her eyes.

        Gaby’s hands and thighs shook in his arms while she let out a deep breath. Illya gave her a small smile. Her dress had ridden up on her legs, unveiling more than she was usually comfortable showing, but she was more worried about how she felt in Illya’s arms.

        Leaning her head into his chest, Gaby felt her heart calm, “Thank you.”

        She felt his hands tighten on her thigh and waist, and his body exhaled a sigh of relief.

       “I got you, chop shop girl.”

        Napoleon handed Illya his stuff back after he set Gaby on her feet, “Nice work Peril. Let’s get out of here.”

        All three ran the length of the road towards the car waiting for them down the block. Illya was supposed to be the getaway driver but with Gaby there, no one questioned it when she climbed into the driver’s seat.

        Gaby let out a long breath once they were on the road. Her hands shuddered from the adrenaline rush and for a second, she kind of wanted to jump off a balcony again and trustingly land in Illya’s more than capable arms.

        The comforting thought didn’t last long once she noticed a soft ticking noise underneath the rumble of the motor. She hushed Napoleon and Illya from their bickering and strained her ears to pick up on the sound.

        “What’s wrong?” Napoleon asked calmly as he leaned forward between her and Illya.

        The sound became more apparent as Gaby listened closely. The quiet ticking seemed to pick up in its pace as she stopped at an empty intersection. She scrunched her eyebrows together, trying to decipher the sound. Recognizing the sound too late, she only had enough time to share a terrified look with Illya before a bomb placed in the car went off.

 

       Napoleon heard Gaby scream as the car flipped and the roof crushed in on the pavement. The crunching metal and shattering glass was deafening in his ears. The passenger side lit up in flames instantly once the car stilled. The only sound was of the fire popping as it started filling the car.

       Surprised that he was still conscious, Napoleon opened his eyes and squinted against the smoke. He heard coughing from somewhere in the front but couldn’t distinguish if it was Illya or Gaby. Blood trickled from his cheeks onto the ground as he moved his limbs, making sure everything still functioned. His shoulder screamed in pain but he ignored it as he maneuvered himself towards the passenger’s side broken window. His heart beat rapidly, knowing he had little time to grab his partners before the car was completely engulfed in flames.  

       With glass biting into his palms, Napoleon was crawled halfway out of the window when he heard tires screech on the other side of the car. Doors slammed and when he looked back out the other side of the flipped car, he saw the men from earlier pull a limp Gaby out of the wreckage. The left side of her face and neck were drenched in blood and her right arm badly burned. Napoleon reached for the gun in his jacket as he pulled himself the rest of the way out. By the time he was standing with his gun pointed, the men were speeding away with Gaby in the backseat. He stared at the license plate, his eyes committing the numbers to memory before the car turned a corner.

       Dropping his arms, Napoleon groaned as he pulled the throbbing chunk of glass out of his shoulder. He moved quickly to Illya’s door where small flames protruded from the window. Kneeling down, he found Illya passed out, the flames surrounding him. Luckily, the fire hadn’t caught onto him yet. Napoleon hooked his hands in Illya’s armpits and heaved. It took him a few tugs until he had Illya fully pulled out of the wreckage. Illya’s wrist with his father’s watch was obviously broken along with a couple fingers. His forehead was split above his eyebrow and the dark blood was running down over his closed eyes.

       Napoleon coughed against the smoke as he pulled Illya onto the sidewalk. People began to wander over to the wreckage and Napoleon felt panic begin to rise in his chest. Heaving Illya onto his back, he made his slow way to a secluded alley. Sweat and blood were dripping off his forehead when he finally dropped Illya into a sitting position on the ground, his back slumped against the brick wall.

       Breathing heavily, Napoleon tried the mic in his ear before ripping it out when it shocked him. He leaned against the wall, his hand tearing off a piece of his shirt to press to the wound in his shoulder. He tried calming his breathing. If their car had a bomb planted in it then Napoleon definitely didn’t trust the safe house they were heading to. Grunting, he crouched next to Illya and tied his bloody piece of shirt around Illya’s head injury. He found some lone pieces of wood near a dumpster and began to set his arm. Napoleon’s thoughts ran through different ways to contact Waverly as his hands worked from memory.

       When he felt confident with his medical attention to Illya, Napoleon lugged him onto his back again and made his way down the alley. He had reached the end when a car pulled up in front of him. In the driver’s seat was Waverly.

       Moving rapidly, Napoleon placed Illya in the back seat before climbing in himself. He didn’t have the door shut all the way when Waverly began to drive away.

       “Where’s Gaby?”

       Napoleon felt guilt weigh on his chest, “They took her after the car blew. I couldn’t do anything, but I got a license plate.”

       “Jesus. We’ll get you and Kuryakin some medical help and then we’re going after Gaby right away. We’ll discuss this mission later.”

       Napoleon could pick out the fury in Waverly’s voice. Gaby was his agent and he had believed the two best agents in the world could at least keep her safe. They had failed horribly. Closing his eyes, Napoleon knew if Gaby didn’t come back in one piece, it was all on him and that stupid painting.

 

       When Napoleon woke up, his neck was kinked horribly from leaning against his hand. Grunting from the bruises covering his body, he sat up in the chair placed next to Illya’s bed, whom was still sound asleep.

       After arriving at a new safe house, Napoleon had given the license plate number and descriptions of the men to Waverly before receiving any medical aid. Too worried about losing another partner, he refused the commands to get some rest but instead took a seat next to Illya. The guilt had eaten away at him until he had fallen asleep, imagining how Illya was going to lose it when he found out about Gaby.

       Speaking of whom, Illya shifted in the bed and Napoleon sat up straighter. He watched as Illya woke groggily. Napoleon’s heart raced in his chest.

       Illya flexed his hands before sitting up, his eyes roaming over the cast on his arm and the room they were in. They eventually stopped on Napoleon. His voice was rough from the smoke in his lungs.

       “Car bomb?”

       Napoleon nodded as he stood and poured himself a drink. He could hear Illya moving out from underneath the sheets.

       “How’s Gaby?”

       With his hands shaking, Napoleon heaved a small sigh before turning. He met Illya’s questioning look silently.

       Illya’s blue eyes widened and his jawline looked sharp when he spoke, “Cowboy, where’s Gaby?”

       Napoleon was prepared for the worst, “When the car flipped, the men returned. I tried to get out as fast as I could, but they had taken her before-…I did everything I could, Peril. I had to get you out in case the car blew.”

       He waited for the explosion but it didn’t come. Illya was frozen with his eyes on the carpet. It was worse than receiving a few of Illya’s punches like he expected. Napoleon noticed Illya’s twitching fingers before he spoke again.

       “Where did they take her?” Illya’s voice was barely above a whisper.

       “Waverly is figuring it out. I saw a license plate and I know what they look like. Hopefully that information is enough, otherwise we’re stuck looking on foot.”

       “She could be dead by then!” Illya rose his voice and his good arm punched the bed. He looked up then. Napoleon was prepared for the blame about to be placed on him. He screwed up the mission and put them in danger. He was the one too obsessed with stealing things to walk by a painting he would’ve made big money off of in the war. And now Gaby was kidnapped by some men, who Illya and him both understood were known for not only smuggling illegal weapons but also murdering innocent women. Gaby was far from innocent and not one to come quietly and obey men. Especially men who thought they were above her.

       Illya stood quietly. Napoleon readied himself.

       Surprisingly, Illya met his eyes calmly, “We have to find her. I can try my tracker on her but it might’ve been damaged in the explosion.”

       Illya’s look was understanding before turning away. Napoleon’s gut twisted. For a KGB agent, Illya was far too empathetic when it came to tough decisions made during missions.

       They had better find Gaby or the guilt was going to kill Napoleon.

 

       Both of them met up with Waverly soon after, Illya’s knuckles covered in fresh blood and cuts from the fragmented mirror in the bathroom. Options were calmly discussed and old files on the kidnappers pulled out of cabinets. The three of them read impatiently, looking for anything on a possible location. It was late into the night when Napoleon finally found something; a warehouse near the docks known for packing and shipping fish.

       The address was frantically committed to memory as him and Illya gathered their equipment. In the meantime, Waverly searched for any known records on the place, hoping to get them some inside information on the layout of the building.

       Eagerly, Illya and Napoleon listened to Waverly’s instructions and didn’t waste any time before climbing into the car parked outside.

       Not as efficiently as Gaby, Illya sped through the streets, his hands always missing the perfect moment to shift and grinding the gears slightly.

       They parked on an empty street a couple blocks down from the warehouse and made their way to the sizable building, pausing to catch a breath whenever their wounds would bother them enough. Covering each other, they took out a few guards standing by the back door Waverly had told them to utilize.

       Illya led the way into the building, his gun cocked tightly against his shoulder. They didn’t meet another guard but instead ran into a pack of them. Napoleon sighed heavily. Just their luck.

       Without hesitation, Illya threw his gun over his shoulder and pulled a knife out of his boot before leaping into the fight. Napoleon covered for him, shooting anyone running to aid the others. The scuffle lasted a minute or two before Illya was finished with the men, the front of his jacket splattered with blood.

       Napoleon questioned a dying guard on the whereabouts of Gaby and was given an answer promptly. Illya had already moved away when Napoleon stood back up. He caught up easily as Illya climbed the stairs to an office that was placed above the spacious factory area.

       Movement could be seen through the windows of the office as Napoleon crouched next to Illya on the stairs. They were fleshing out a plan when the men spilled out of the room, their voices raising when they saw Illya and Napoleon.

       Napoleon shot them down immediately despite knowing the alarm had already been raised to the rest of the men in the building. Guards would be coming in as backup soon. Illya bounded over the dead bodies littering the stairs hastily, his boots slipping on the blood. With determination, Illya finally made it up to the office, his foot toeing the door open and his hands holding his gun at the ready.

       The inside seemed empty and Illya lowered his gun. He was about to flip the table out of frustration when he noticed a figure in the corner next to a small fireplace.

       “Gaby,” Illya murmured as he moved around a desk to reach her. Her shivering body shifted at his voice.

       Napoleon turned into the office right when Illya was pulling Gaby into his lap. He breathed a sigh of relief until he noticed how pale her skin was. Moving to Illya’s side hurriedly, Napoleon looked down at her. The green dress he had picked out for her was soaked in blood and the burns on her arm were worse than he first thought.

       Gaby had her eyes half open and one side of her face was still caked in blood. Despite her partly hidden face, Napoleon could still barely make out a look of shame in her brown eyes. She avoided looking at either of them directly but instead focused on Illya’s neck.

       Illya ran a hand through her hair gently, “I’m here. I got you.”

       Gaby’s hands gripped his arms weakly, “I’m sorry.”

       Illya shushed her as he placed his arms under her legs and around her waist, drawing her against his chest. It was then Napoleon noticed the finger shaped bruises on Gaby’s upper thighs and the way she pulled meekly on the edge of her dress, making sure she was covered. It all clicked together in his head. Illya and him were too late.

       Illya turned around, his eyes wild with fury when they met Napoleon’s. Understanding of the situation was exchanged between them in the second before Illya moved around him. Napoleon breathed out before lifting his gun back up and leading Illya out of the office. To his surprise, Napoleon didn’t see a soul as they made their way back towards the door they first came through.

       The odd silence broke quickly though after he turned the last corner to the door. The men from the earlier mission stood waiting for them, knives in hand.

       “Give us the girl and you can leave.” The man’s Italian accent was strong. Napoleon recognized him as the one who pulled Gaby out of the car.

       Illya growled, “Fuck you.”

       Napoleon’s mind was racing, trying to figure a way out of this mess. He kept pulling up blanks. He was too focused on the bruises lining Gaby’s legs and the way she hung limply in Illya’s arms.  

       “I’m sure you don’t want her back. She’ll probably never be the same.”

       Napoleon saw a glimpse of the man’s grin before Illya was sprinting across the room.

       “Peril!” Napoleon shouted and turned to see Gaby placed against a wall out of the way. By the time he had turned back, Illya’s knife was hilt deep in a man’s throat, the blood smothering his hands. Napoleon shot a couple men across the room, his body hovered over Gaby’s protectively.

       Napoleon had heard the rumors and read the file, but he hadn’t fully understood the name Red Peril until now. Illya moved from man to man, his hands snapping necks or the knife that seemed to be an extension of his arm slicing stomachs open. His broken wrist had obviously unset itself midway through the fight. Napoleon observed Illya switch the knife to his healthy hand quickly while stabbing a man, the broken wrist hung at his side uselessly.

       After viewing men bleed out and die, Napoleon watched silently as Illya approached the Italian with a smart mouth. The man spoke rapid Italian, apologizing and asking for forgiveness. Napoleon glanced at Gaby and felt anger rush through his veins. He was beginning to silently will Illya forward, hoping he would kill the man horrifically until he felt Gaby take his hand faintly. He tore his eyes away and looked down at her. Tears rolled down her cheeks silently, leaving streaks through the blood and dirt. She had her face turned away, but Napoleon could see her chin trembling.

       Napoleon took a deep breath and dropped her hand. Placing his gun to his shoulder, he aimed quickly and accurately over Illya’s shoulder before shooting the Italian man in the middle of his forehead. Illya whirled around, his eyes unrecognizable.

       “Calm yourself, Illya,” Napoleon spoke softly, “Gaby is our priority.”

       His words worked as Illya transformed back into his normal self. Napoleon hadn’t known he was frightened until Illya placed the bloody knife back in his boot. It was miraculous how after a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, Illya fell back into himself. Napoleon wasn’t so sure he knew the man standing in front of him anymore. Or at least, he now understood there was a side of the Russian he hadn’t known before.

       Moving aside as Illya walked over, Napoleon considered how tender Illya’s blood-glazed hands were as he lifted Gaby back into his arms. It was alarming how quickly Napoleon trusted those hands again even after seeing them kill at least ten men in under five minutes.

       He was relieved to have Illya by his side.

 

       The trip back to the safe house was silent except for small sobs emitting from Gaby. Illya gave her extra space in the backseat, although Napoleon could tell how much he wanted to comfort her. Napoleon was still in shock as he drove, his knuckles white on the wheel. For once, it seemed like Illya would have to be the one to pull them back together.

       When they reached the house, Napoleon led the way as Gaby followed shakily. Illya was behind her the entire time, his eyes tracking her every movement.

       Waverly waited for them at the door happily until his smile dropped after viewing Gaby. He left the room swiftly, and Napoleon could hear him ordering the nurse to hurry over the phone.

       Once in the room, Gaby locked herself in the bathroom immediately, her arms tight around her chest. Illya tiptoed to the closed door and heard the shower start.

       Illya turned back around, “You alright, Cowboy?”

       Napoleon had fallen onto the couch, his eyes shut. He had to speak up before it broke him.

       “There’s no way to fix this and it’s my fault. If only I wasn’t so fucking messed up. I put both of you at risk because of some ridiculous painting. And now Gaby has…fuck…”

       Napoleon heard Illya sigh and bottles clink together. He opened his eyes in time to see Illya hand him a glass of alcohol. His blue eyes were unbearably supportive as Napoleon took the drink and downed it in a gulp.

       In the shower, Gaby let the hot water scald her skin. She wept silently while staring at the bruises littering her skin and the blood coating the bathtub. She couldn’t get Napoleon’s shocked face out of her head and the feel of Illya’s soothing hands running over her legs. Shame and disgust filled her chest, making her choke on her breaths. She tried to ignore the sensation of helplessness when she thought back on the events earlier in the day.

       How could she count herself as a sophisticated agent when she couldn’t even fight a man off of her? Gaby recollected the feeling of satisfaction when her fists and knees collided with bodies but it hadn’t lasted long since her punches only seemed to infuriate the men more.

       Grabbing a bar of soap blindly from the shelf, Gaby scrubbed her tainted skin furiously. She didn’t stop until her skin was raw and pink. Turning the hot water up, Gaby sat down and let the water burn down her back. In comparison to the white porcelain of the tub, Gaby’s bruises looked horrific on her thighs and stomach.

       Time passed and Gaby didn’t move. The water was chilly when a knock at the door made her jump. She stood quickly, her arms covering herself.

       “Are you okay, Gaby? The nurse is here.”

       She sighed at Waverly’s worried voice. Gaby hated pity and it was all she could hear in Waverly’s voice, Napoleon’s eyes, and Illya’s soft touches.

       “Fine. I don’t need a nurse.”

       Stepping out of the shower, Gaby turned to look in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her skin rubbed pink. For a second, she didn’t recognize herself. How was this same girl who betrayed the two best agents in the world? The one who slapped an unstable KGB agent and then drunkenly wrestled him? That girl seemed miles away compared to the frightened one in front of her.

       Taking her time, Gaby dressed herself in the pinstripe pajamas placed on the toilet seat. During the unknown length of her shower, she vaguely remembered hearing the door open quietly and shut again after a couple seconds.  

       Gaby brushed her hair slowly then, trying to pull herself together. Glaring at herself in the mirror, she promised herself to walk out there with her head held high and not break down. She was her own woman and men weren’t going to be her weakness. Especially ones who were now left behind in a warehouse after being brutally murdered. However, their deaths did nothing to ease her hollowness. They had still had their way with her and that would never change. Gaby would never forgive herself for letting it happen.

       Slamming the brush onto the counter, Gaby held in her tears and took deep breaths. She had to keep it together, for her sake and the men’s in the other room. They weren’t going to see her like this. Swallowing her anxiety and sorrow, Gaby took one last look in the mirror before turning away.

       Ignoring her aching bruises, Gaby whipped open the bathroom door and nearly ran into Illya. Her heart jumped against her will and she stumbled back. An unknown fear dug at her throat as she steadied herself. Her bruises seemed to throb more.

       Illya didn’t miss the spark of fright in Gaby’s eyes, “Sorry. I need a shower and Napoleon needs help.”

       Angry at herself for being startled, Gaby swallowed thickly and moved aside so Illya could pass her. Shutting the door behind her, Gaby witnessed Napoleon fumble with a bottle of alcohol before falling back onto the couch. This was new. She had never seen Napoleon black out drunk before. At first, a small smirk pulled on her lips until she watched him drink deeply from the bottle. The scene wasn’t right.

       Making her way over to the couch, Gaby stood a good distance away. Her body froze in its spot and Gaby had to swallow to clear the odd anxiety building in her chest.

       “I think you’ve had plenty to drink.”

       Napoleon spun his gaze over to Gaby. He eyed her before sipping from the bottle.

       His voice was remarkably clear, “Not yet. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

       Gaby shifted her feet, “Forgotten what?”

       Napoleon looked at the alcohol bottle, “How I let them take you away.”

       Without warning, tears pricked at the corners of Gaby’s eyes, “It’s okay-”

       “Don’t say it’s fucking okay,” Napoleon sent an intense look at her, “I did this to you. It’s my fault and I’m so sorry.”

       Fighting her inner turmoil, Gaby moved her feet and sat on the couch next to him. She took the bottle from his hand and placed it on the table. She took a deep breath and tried to order her thoughts.

       Gripping his hand in hers, Gaby smiled weakly, “What happened tonight was no one’s fault. I decided to follow you into that building and look at that painting. Illya left the car because he wanted to help us and I was the one who should’ve recognized a bomb when I first heard it. And don’t you ever apologize to me for the actions of other men unless you would do the same things they did.”

       Napoleon didn’t look at her and Gaby felt frustration rise in her stomach. With her other hand, she yanked his chin to look at her. Gaby knew he was drunk, but she not going to give up until her words reached him.

      “Napoleon, I’m alive and here. It hurts but I’ll get over it. I would never ever blame you for what happened. We all made our choices and there’s nothing we can do to change that. Now, stop pitying me and yourself and pull your shit together. I’ll try to do the same.”

       His eyes relaxed and Gaby pulled him into a hug. Gaby buried her nervous fear when Napoleon wrapped an arm around her waist and hid his face in her shoulder. She wondered when the last time Napoleon allowed someone to hold him. He was usually so put together and independent that the thought of him needing comfort never crossed her mind. But the same could be said for her and Illya as well. They all needed to learn how to depend on others.

       After a couple minutes of silence, Gaby began to grow comfortable again. The fear from her experience was still there but it was strongly contained inside her chest. She had no reason to be scared of Napoleon or Illya anyway; they were the ones who risked their lives to save hers. Illya had slaughtered men with his bare hands to protect her and Napoleon had taken all the blame for the rape. She wasn’t sure how she was going to repay them.

       Long after their conversation, Gaby’s legs began to cramp and when she shifted, she realized Napoleon had passed out. She could only imagine the mass amounts of alcohol in his system that could finally knock him out.

       Moving out from underneath him, Gaby had just placed a blanket over a stretched out Napoleon when Illya stepped out of the bathroom. He moved carefully about the room, glancing at Gaby when she wasn’t looking. Her face seemed more at peace but her eyes still held a flicker of anxiety.

       Ignoring his chessboard, Illya cleared his throat after sitting down on one of the twin beds. Gaby turned to look at him from her spot on the table in front of Napoleon.

       “I’m going to bed. You should get some rest as well.”

       Her grin was frail, “It’s okay. I’m not tired.”

       Gaby expected him to argue with her but instead Illya nodded and climbed into his bed, his hand turning off the one light. Gaby listened to him shift in his bed for a couple minutes until the room fell silent. She made out Napoleon’s even breathing in the quiet and matched his tempo, calming her own heart for a few minutes. The darkness of the room felt cool on her heavy eyes.

       Reaching out, Gaby brushed her fingers against Napoleon’s, surprised at her longing for physical touch. She had thought it would be the opposite after the day she had, but ever since she had felt Napoleon’s arms around her, her body had felt more relaxed. In the dark, Gaby looked over to where her bed waited. She thought back to when Illya had caught her and draped his arms around her. Security had swept over her at the time.

       Gaby made a split decision as she stood up and padded mutely to the side of Illya’s bed. Before she could chicken out, she lifted the covers and slid underneath them until she was pressed up against Illya’s back.

       Lying awake, Illya tried not to shift as Gaby wrapped herself around him, her arm over his waist. He listened to his heart beat madly in his ears when Gaby pressed her face into his neck. Illya could feel her hot tears slide down his throat. He repeated to himself that she didn’t mean anything by this. That Gaby just needed someone to be there for her and he was the only choice at the moment. How he ached to hold her, comfort her, kiss away the tears on her cheeks.

       They rested in peace for a few minutes and right when Illya thought she had fallen asleep, Gaby spoke.

       “Illya?”

       “Hmm?”

       Her voice was a murmur in his ears, “Can you face me?”

       Illya’s heart raced as he rolled over and met Gaby’s tear streaked face inches from his. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she ran a hand along the side of his head. Her fingers scratched through his hair, making him close his eyes in bliss. With her hand on his neck, she cuddled up close to him and felt her muscles unwind. Moving slowly, he wound his arms around her waist as she buried her face into his collarbone, her sobs silent against him.

       When she quieted minutes later, she spoke softly.

       “Thank you.”

       Illya hummed. This would do for now. “I’ve got you.”

       Gaby had never felt safer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT:  
> I just need to add that I am not a rape survivor, and despite talking to one of my best friends who is one, I really have no reason for writing rape fanfics. I tried to make this fic more about the relationships between the trio and have the rape has a background plot (which rape should never ever ever be treated as a background issue). I tried my best to expose the rape in this fic to be as realistic as possible (even though so many variables could be different and reality is a lot messier). I wanted Gaby to realize that she can survive it and I wanted there to be a happy ending because so many rape cases do not end well and victims have to live with such a terrible terrible thing. 
> 
> So I apologize if this fic is at all insensitive or completely inaccurate to victims out there. And I promise to not use rape as plot device (even a minor one) or as a way to develop a character. To all the survivors and victims, you are stronger than I could ever dream of being. And it is ok to not be ok and to need help. You deserve validation and all the love in the world.


End file.
